


It's Only Sex

by madeitsimple



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-09-26 19:01:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20394598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madeitsimple/pseuds/madeitsimple
Summary: Sure, he’s a little out of practice, but casual sex is like riding a bike as far as Tony’s concerned. Once you get good at it, it never really leaves you.





	It's Only Sex

He tells himself it’s only sex. 

Sure, he’s a little out of practice, but casual fucking is like riding a bike as far as Tony’s concerned. Once you get good at it, it never really leaves you. 

In hindsight, it seemed inevitable that he and Steve would crash into each other this way, both of them careening down different paths towards the same destination. 

The first time it happens, it’s a mess of torn clothing and brutal kisses. One minute they’re in the communal kitchen, weary but victorious after an Avenger mission, and the next, Steve is pushing him across the floor and onto the couch, kissing him breathless. Or, he thinks that’s how it happened. Maybe he made the first move, he’s still not exactly sure. They didn’t fuck exactly, not right there in the den where anyone could’ve walked in, but Tony had torn the button off of Steve’s jeans and wedged a hand down his pants, stroking him roughly until he bit Tony’s coller bone and came with a muffled groan. In return, Steve worked him expertly with a deft turn of his wrist until he came all across Steve’s navy blue sweater. 

The entire thing took 10 minutes, maybe less. 

Right after, in those crucial, post-orgasmic moments, Tony had cupped the side of Steve’s face, searching and failing for the right thing to say. Steve excused himself from the sofa then, stripped down to his undershirt and walked away, leaving Tony a little shell shocked. It was bound to happen he told himself. They’d come a long way back to each other, from the Accords and Bucky and finally defeating Thanos. It was stupid, frankly, that they hadn’t already done it. Plus, it was only sex. A physical build up of desire and need, that, once excised, didn’t need to happen again. 

There’s no pattern to it, or none that Tony can discern. 

The first time felt like a one time thing, not exactly a mistake, but a sudden glitch in their protocols that allowed everything to go haywire before snapping back to normal. But it happens again, this time in the simulation room, after Natasha and Bruce suggest Tony get in some extra hand-to-hand practice. He never enters the field without his suit, but Steve had also insisted, saying it was never a bad thing to learn a few new moves. Steve had showed him how to get out of a reverse choke hold, flipping them both to the ground. The scenario gave Tony the upper hand, let him pin Steve’s hands above his head. Instead of releasing his grip, Tony rocked his thigh between Steve’s legs and kissed him until he was panting, desperate for air. Like before, he pushed a hand down Steve’s sweatpants, but this time exposed him fully. The cold air hitting his dick made Steve gasp.

“This is gonna feel good, Rogers,” he said before swallowing him down. Steve had snapped his hips in surprise, fingers immediately winding through Tony’s hair. Tony sucked him off quickly, pumping his hand along the base of Steve’s dick while the head hit the back of his throat. Steve came with a series of choked groans, his come flooding Tony’s mouth. Tony swallowed what he could, let the rest drip obscenely out of his mouth. After, he crawled up Steve’s chest and kissed him again, making it wet and messy, so there was no mistaking what they’d just done. 

There’s a time after that (in Clint’s barn, Steve pressing Tony against the wall, stroking both their dicks in his massive, calloused palm), and a time after that (the Quinjet, Tony rutting and coming against the sharp V of Steve’s hips) and a time after that (the lab, when Tony pushes Steve to his knees), all furtive encounters in semi-public places, each one ending with someone walking away first. Sometimes it’s Tony, who tucks himself back inside his pants and gives Steve a little wink before departing. When Steve leaves first, his mouth always stretches into a thin, stern line. 

Tony thinks about it often enough, wonders if he should say something, bring it up in a casual, non-threatening way. 

“So, I know this isn’t technically fucking, but it’s pretty damn close. Maybe we should talk about this.” 

There are other things he wants to say too, like _have dinner with me_, or _let’s watch a movie_, or _maybe we should just sleep_. 

But that’s not them, that’s never been them, and conversely, Tony would argue, it’s probably the reason they still fight so much. Steve doesn’t say anything, so Tony doesn’t say anything, though he can fee the words, stupid, emotional words, fighting to crawl their way out of his throat.

Even in their brief encounters (these things are over in a matter of minutes) Tony learns about what Steve likes, how he crumples when you pay special attention to the spot under his jaw, how he likes to be stroked quickly and firmly, how pinning his hands down, even slightly, gets him rock hard. 

Steve learns about him too, about how much he likes Steve on his knees, mouth soft and open, and coming across his face, streaking his beard with white. The first time they do that, Tony keeps his fingers twined through Steve’s hair and kisses him slowly, deeply. “You alright?” Tony says softly, wondering if he’s pushed too far. Steve nods and kisses him again, his hands running up and down Tony’s thighs. It’s an awkward angle, but they stay like that for longer than necessary, and Tony feels something important shift inside him.

They don’t officially fuck until later, after a Stark Industries gala that Steve gets dragged to by Pepper. “He’s a big draw and we could use the good will,” she says, flashing her brilliant smile for the cameras. “Plus, it means less glad-handing for you. It’s win win.” True to her word, Pepper keeps Steve busy all evening, guiding him from group to group so that Tony hardly sees him. Every now and then he catches a pair of broad shoulders wearing a grim expression out of the corner of his eye. He takes some comfort in how miserable Steve looks, delights a little more when he catches him stifling a yawn. 

“Jesus, how do you handle these things?” Steve finds him outside on the balcony overlooking a twinkling Midtown. “They’re not so bad, but the key is that you have to maintain a steady and proper buzz the entire time,” Tony replies, lifting his glass. Steve’s expression gives away nothing but annoyance. He nods to Tony and starts to make his way back inside before changing his mind. 

“You look nice,” he says, catching Tony totally off guard. “I mean, your suits are always nice, but the tux is a good look on you. You look handsome.” 

It had taken Tony a second to find his words, a weird, sudden warmth spreading through his chest. “Uh, thanks?” he says, regretting that it had sounded like a question. 

Steve gave him one of his signature clipped nods before heading back inside, expression as grim as if he were facing down Hydra. Tony had been almost giddy, dumbfounded but pleased at Steve’s compliment before realizing he hadn’t said anything back. 

Instead of heading straight to bed that night, Tony had gone down to the communal kitchen, even though it was late, and found Steve standing there in his tux, bow-tie undone, gazing outside. Without a word, he gave Steve’s hand a gentle tug and led him back to his bedroom.

They made quick work of their clothes, discarding jackets and shirts and shoes in a rush till they were moving against each other fully naked for the first time. They had full privacy now, there was no danger of anyone walking in on them, but they still didn’t take their time, accustomed to the rapid pace of their usual liaisons. Steve had him laid out on the bed, head bobbing between his legs when Tony tugged at his hair, a warning to pull off. 

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he said. 

Steve lifted his mouth a fraction in a smirk. “That’s the point.” 

Tony shook his head slightly and tightened his grip on Steve’s hair, locking their eyes. “Fuck me,” he said. He saw Steve swallow, his hand still working slowly along Tony’s dick. 

“You sure?” he asked. 

Tony nodded, tugged at Steve’s shoulder. Steve crawled his way up Tony’s body, aligning their mouths while Tony wrapped his legs high around Steve’s waist, baring himself open. Steve opened him up quickly and thoroughly and pushed inside him fully in one slick thrust. Steve shut his eyes from the pleasure, while Tony cried out, and urged Steve to fuck him harder. They lost themselves in an urgent snapping of hips, Steve’s hands gripping at Tony’s waist, both of them moved by something fierce and desperate they’d both been holding back. Neither of them lasted long, coming in endless, hot spurts one right after the other. Steve had collapsed forward onto him, his head pillowing against Tony’s chest, arms wrapped tightly around his back. In his post-orgasm haze, Tony placed small kisses along the side of Steve’s face, trailed his fingers down Steve’s bare back.

Too soon, Steve had pulled away, untangling himself from Tony’s arms. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and wrapped a sheet around his midsection, as if modesty was suddenly an issue. 

“Was that too rough?” he asked, staring at his feet, not meeting Tony’s eye. 

Tony shook his head before realizing Steve couldn’t see him. “No, no that wasn’t” he said, heart sinking a little as Steve gathered up his clothes. From his bed, he watched Steve pull on his underwear and pants, hunt around for his shirt. “You know you can stay here,” Tony offered but Steve shook his head. 

“I should probably go. You don’t need me here anyway.” 

The comment stung but Tony only nodded, letting the disappointment build in his chest. They hadn’t talked about any of this, hadn’t set any boundaries or even any expectations. It was stupid to feel slighted, so Tony gathered up his emotions and locked them up tightly. It was just sex. Which was fine. Just fine. 

Things would have remained that way, would have remained _fine, just fine_, if not for a cease fire between two warring nations going spectacularly wrong. A tense standoff had ended in the worst possible way, with a radioactive bomb headed towards a city of two million. Iron Man had been called in and the bomb disposed of, but not before Tony exposed himself for far too long to the plutonium core. 

His heroics put him in the compound’s medical wing for days, in and out of a high fever state, his body reacting violently to the exposure, while Bruce tried frantically to mitigate the damage. They put him in a coma for three days, so his organs wouldn’t completely shut down. When he woke, Steve was at his bedside, eyes sunken in, his mouth that same, thin, pursed line. 

“You’re going to be fine, Tony,” Steve said, squeezing his hand. “Bruce says the cure is worse than the disease.” It had been a lie, but he let it go, considering the tube down his throat didn’t allow him to talk. 

It took a total of 10 days before Bruce discharged him from the medical wing and back to his quarters. The fact that he pulled through was a minor miracle considering his blood had almost been ionized into nothing. Tony had never been so grateful to be back in his own bed. He flopped onto the mattress, barely making it under the covers before wiping out. From his internal clock, it felt like he’d only been asleep for minutes when the bell chimed. 

“Captain Rogers to see you sir,” FRIDAY announced. 

Bleary eyed, he stumbled to the door. Steve waited in the hallway, looking as wrecked and tired as Tony felt. Tony held out his hand and led Steve inside, instructing FRIDAY to turn on the do not disturb function. 

Tony slid into bed first, watched as Steve hovered over him for an uncertain moment, before stepping out of his pants and shirt. Clad only in his boxers, he turned back the covers and climbed under, curling his muscular frame around Tony. 

“You almost died,” Steve said, burying his nose in the short hairs at the nape of Tony’s neck. 

“But I didn’t.” Tony pulled Steve’s arms tighter around him. “I’m still here.”

In the morning, they fucked slowly, Steve resisting and protesting until Tony convinced him otherwise. They rocked against each other, barely moving while Steve whispered endearments softly against the shell of his ear. Tony pulled at his waist, dug his fingers into the flesh of Steve’s thigh, worked sharp, wet bruises onto his neck until they were both sweaty and spent, covered in come. 

Steve slept there nightly until Tony was back at full strength. Sometimes they would fuck, losing themselves in pleasure until the sheets were damp and in disarray but mostly they slept, Steve drifting off with a book while Tony worked on a tablet. The day he was officially cleared for Avenger duty, Steve disappeared back to his own quarters, and stayed there until Tony, furious enough to spit fire, dragged him back to his room. 

“You don’t do this kind of thing, remember?” Steve said, as Tony pushed him through the door.

“What gave you that idea?” 

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “Your list of conquests is a mile long, Tony. Why would I be any different? It’s just sex, right?” 

Wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist, Tony pulled him in close and pressed their mouths together. 

“Does it feel like just sex?” he asked, leaning in till their foreheads touched.

No, Steve shook his head. It never had.


End file.
